


Come Tumbling Down

by Her_Madjesty



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftercare, Collars, Dom/sub, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 06:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14743523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Her_Madjesty/pseuds/Her_Madjesty
Summary: “The world is, for once, not coming to an end; we are entitled to rest,” Cassandra grumbles. Evelyn feels her relax as Cassandra buries her nose into her hair. “Though I do not believe this counts as ‘sleeping in’.”





	Come Tumbling Down

**Author's Note:**

> Another request! Hope it's enjoyable.

Skyhold is – in between, in the aftermath of Corypheus’s defeat. The early morning sun dances through halls that are abandoned by all save for a few over-zealous allies who, unable to make their way back to their separate bed chambers, found comfort and sleep on stone or in the lush courtyard. Around all of them, there is debris: handkerchiefs stained with kohl and tears, the remnants of food and drink, not to mention several shoes.

Evelyn, barefoot herself, peers down at all of the lost souls splayed throughout her courtyard from the soft climes of her personal balcony. The mountain breeze pushes her hair away from her face and raises goosebumps on her skin, but she makes no move to retreat.

Behind her, spread out on the bed, Cassandra snores. Evelyn doesn’t bother to fight down her grin as the Seeker – still clothed – snuffled against one of her pillows before hauling Evelyn’s sheets over her strong shoulders.

There is blood stained armor to be cleaned, lying at the foot of the bed. There are meetings to attend, no doubt – allies to appease, enemies to judge, and a whole world to rebuild.

Evelyn focuses on Cassandra, all the same.

She doesn’t know how long she stares for, tracing the fall of the Seeker’s dark hair on her pillow, but it is long enough that Cassandra blinks open her eyes and unthinkingly gropes for the empty space where Evelyn knows she should be.

The Inquisitor pads back towards the bed before Cassandra even thinks to look for her. As Cassandra turns, Evelyn finds herself stunned by a soft and grateful smile. Her hands stutter on the sheets of her bed.

“Of course you’re awake,” Cassandra huffs – or maybe doesn’t huff, for there’s too much affection in the way she rolls her eyes.

Evelyn elbows her as she tucks herself into the Seeker’s side. “You’re one to talk – though it is gratifying to see you sleep in.”

“The world is, for once, not coming to an end; we are entitled to rest,” Cassandra grumbles. Evelyn feels her relax as Cassandra buries her nose into her hair. “Though I do not believe this counts as ‘sleeping in’.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Evelyn murmurs. She presses a kiss to Cassandra’s collarbone and revels in the way the Seeker begins to flush. Her hands twitch for want of movement, but Cassandra, for all her romantic inclinations, has proven shy before. Evelyn knows better than to surprise her; she keeps her touch light and lets her lover grow accustomed to it. As she drags her fingers up and into the Seeker’s hair, she’s rewarded with a deliberate slump of Cassandra’s shoulders.

“There you are,” she murmurs into Cassandra’s neck. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Cassandra snorts but does not open her eyes. “You will try,” she replies, “but you will still hide behind me when Josephine comes looking for you.”

Despite herself, Evelyn shudders, though her skin warms as Cassandra laughs. The Seeker wraps her arms around Evelyn’s waist and pulls her close; Evelyn goes willingly and loses time in the smell of sweat and magic and relief.

Only when Cassandra’s own hands begin to wander does Evelyn wrench herself back to the present. She tilts her head up and smirks at Cassandra’s otherwise innocuous face. The Seeker glances down at her, eyes cautious but sparking. Evelyn indulges her gentle touches – fingers across her hips, her stomach, her arms – for several moments before shifting. She brings herself up on her elbow and blows a strand of hair away from her face.

“I have a present for you,” she says, pitching her voice low.

Cassandra’s pupils dilate, though she pulls her hands away.

“I didn’t want to give it to you while – everything was going on,” Evelyn continues. She glances down at her hands once, nervousness fluttering in her throat and stomach. “But you asked me, once – well, told me really – about your walls, dear?”

Cassandra blinks. Evelyn meets her gaze and forces herself to remain steady as the gears turn in the Seeker’s head.

“I – do recall mentioning something similar,” Cassandra grits out.

“When I got you that updated _Swords and Shields_?” Evelyn prods. “From Varric?”

Cassandra rolls her eyes, and Evelyn can’t help but laugh. She leans down and presses a kiss to Cassandra’s forehead.

“I wanted to find you something that would allow you to let some of those walls go,” she says. “That way, just for a little while, you can be who you want to be, not who you feel you have to be. Do you understand?”

Cassandra takes her time in answering. Evelyn watches as she plucks at a loose thread in the sheets, her brow dipping into its familiar furrow. “I – have an inkling, as to what you’re implying,” she says, at last. “Dorian has been – talkative.” The look she gives Evelyn is tentative, but not uninterested, even as she wrinkles her nose.

Evelyn chuckles and bolsters her courage. “If I show you your present,” she says, “would you be willing to let me use it to take care of you? And I will take care of you, Cassandra, you know I will, but I won’t do anything without your permission.”

She loses track of Cassandra’s expression in her rambling reassurances. When she focuses in again, Cassandra is a delicate pink and tense. It’s an adorable look that warms Evelyn’s stomach even as she tamps down a wave of anxiety.

Something shifts in Cassandra’s expression, as the silence drags. It is vulnerable, but strong, and maybe a bit excited. “Show me,” she commands, pushing herself upright in the bed so she can look Evelyn in the face. “Please,” she adds, biting her lip.

Evelyn can’t stop herself from leaning forward. She kisses Cassandra gently and relishes the way the other woman melts forward. When she pulls away, Cassandra follows, and it takes a significant chunk of her willpower not to lean back in.

“I’ll be back in just a moment,” Evelyn says. When the urge overwhelms her, she kisses Cassandra’s temple, then forces herself to rise from the bed.

The lone dresser in her room houses few clothes, but the top drawer is the fullest. Evelyn digs into the back until she finds the silk bag she’d had Dorian deliver to her several weeks ago. When she turns back around, bag behind her back, it’s to find Cassandra sitting at attention in her bed.

“Did I tell you to sit up?” Evelyn asks.

There is a brief flash of confusion on Cassandra’s face, but it is quick to disappear. The tone of Evelyn’s voice is familiar; it is the one she uses as Inquisitor – yet subtly different, low and gentle and teasing. Evelyn watches as Cassandra repositions herself, pulling the covers back up around her shoulders.

“You did not, sir,” Cassandra responds. “I did not know we were beginning, sir.”

Evelyn shivers. They’ve done this thing before, on nights when Cassandra was unable to sleep or when Evelyn couldn’t remember where she ended and the Anchor began. The whole of the Inquisition calls her some variant of “sir” - Herald, Inquisitor, even the occasional “ma’am” - but it is different when Cassandra says it. Better.

“That’s alright, dear girl,” Evelyn replies, coming to rest on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t make it clear. It’s up to you whether or not you want to play, depending on how well you like your present.” She passes the silken bag into Cassandra’s lap and tries to swallow down another wave of nervousness. “Would you open it?”

Cassandra looks up at her through her lashes, and Evelyn finds herself awash in a wave of want. It had taken so long, that first night, for Cassandra’s walls to come down, for the Seeker to become a woman again. It remains difficult, but there is pleasure both in the gifts the women give each other as well as the lack of tension in Cassandra’s shoulders.

“Of course, sir,” Cassandra murmurs. Her rough fingers undo the bag’s bindings with ease, pulling out from its depths a line of leather. Evelyn watches her examine it, fingers running over the ring at its center and the delicate, silver snaps that will hold it together.

When Cassandra looks at her again, there is a question in her eyes.

“Ask,” Evelyn commands.

“Are we getting a dog, sir?”

Evelyn laughs, loud and bright in the quiet of her bedroom. There is mirth in Cassandra’s eyes, as well, alongside the nervousness she brings to their bed. She fingers the snaps of the leather band again, glancing between it and Evelyn with equal curiosity.

“Only if you’d like,” Evelyn replies, once she’s able to catch her breath. “This – is more of a symbol. An excuse, even.”

“An excuse, sir?”

Evelyn gently takes the leather strap from Cassandra’s hands. She wraps it around her own neck and smiles at her companion. “Whenever you wear this,” she says, “should you choose to accept it, you would acknowledge that I am in charge of your decisions.”

When Cassandra’s brow begins to furrow again, Evelyn elaborates. “Not in the way I usually am – in a way that allows you to relax, to listen without fear of harm or danger. You won’t have to think your way through our bedchamber; I will take care of you and make sure you take care of me, in turn.”

Cassandra continues to eye the leather – the collar – with equal measures of curiosity and concern. Evelyn removes the strap from around her own throat and passes it into her lover’s hands once more. Cassandra’s fingers find the metal at once, but they do not linger on the snaps, but rather the ring at the collar’s center.

When she remains silent, Evelyn begins to flush. “Do you remember your safe word, dear?”

“Chrysanthemum,” Cassandra murmurs. Warmth stirs in Evelyn’s belly as her lover’s eyes remain fixed on the collar. “I am not using it, sir, simply reciting it.”

“Good,” Evelyn murmurs. She, too, finds herself staring at the collar and forces herself to look at Cassandra, instead. She fights back a sharp gasp; Cassandra’s eyes, sharp and brown, have nearly lost all their color to the darkness of her pupils.

“I think I would like very much to wear your collar, sir,” Cassandra says, at last. She clears her throat as she adjusts herself in bed, and Evelyn sees the sweat beginning to gather on her skin. The fabric pools between Cassandra’s legs as she passes the collar back.

Evelyn feels a shock of pleasure pulse in her cunt, wrists, and chest, but she does not let it overwhelm her. “I’m so pleased, pet,” she says with a smile. “Do you feel ready to play now? Do you need food or water?”

“I think I find myself too distracted to seek these things out, whether or not I need them,” Cassandra replies. She tacks on her “sir” at the statement’s end, some heartbeats after her sentence’s conclusion, but Evelyn does not call her on it.

“Then come out from under the covers, pet,” the Inquisitor says, rising from the bed. “I want to see you.”

The fluidity with which Cassandra does as she’s told is – riveting. Stark. Terrifying, in its own way, but terror mixes with sharp pleasure and dulls Evelyn’s senses.

“Take off your shirt, pet.”

Cassandra swallows hard, but she is quick to respond. She’s slept, Evelyn notices, in the same clothes she fell into upon their return to Skyhold; just as the courtyard is stained, so is Cassandra.

And then – Evelyn stares.

She knows, idly, that Cassandra flushes with her breasts on display, unbound after a night of sleep. Evelyn, however – has simple needs. She momentarily forgets the collar she has in hand and kneels alongside her lover to press a kiss to her sternum. When she rises again, Cassandra is as red as the early morning sunrise.

“You are a treasure,” Evelyn purrs, if only to see that blush grow deeper. “Pants next, pet. Underwear, as well.”

It takes Cassandra several moments to drag her dark pants over her thighs, then several moments longer to remove them entirely as Evelyn refuses to let her rise. When she finally abandons them, Evelyn can see goosebumps rising on her skin; the pants themselves, along with her thin underwear, are stark against the stone floor.

Evelyn reaches out on impulse and brushes her lover’s cheek. Cassandra leans, as if on instinct, into the touch.

“What a good pet you are,” Evelyn says. Her fingers dance upward and ghost through Cassandra’s hair. “It takes so much trust for you to do this, and you’re doing so well. Tell me how you feel.”

“Scared.” The word leaves Cassandra’s lips like a prayer. Evelyn goes to pull back, but Cassandra presses further into her touch and speaks again. “But I – I like it, sir.”

Evelyn hums. She pulls Cassandra’s head forward with exaggerated gentleness, better to press the woman’s head against her stomach. Cassandra lets out a noise that is one part grunt, one part moan, and Evelyn has to lock her knees to keep from bucking her hips.

“I’m going to put this on you now, pet,” Evelyn says, “and when I do, you’ll know that you’re mine – just mine. Is that understood?”

“I understand, sir,” Cassandra breathes.

Evelyn kisses her temple as she leans down, her own lengthy hair brushing against her lover’s cheek. The collar is, in truth, a simple thing; she secures it around Cassandra’s neck and lets the satisfying “clink” of the snaps echo off the walls.

Cassandra takes a shuddering breath as Evelyn pulls away. The black leather is a gift against her pale skin; it draws the eye from her hair to her eyes to her neck and down, where a wispy thatch of curls rests between her legs.

Evelyn takes a steadying breath of her own and slips a hand onto Cassandra’s cheek. “What are you, pet?”

Cassandra squeaks or sighs or moans; it is difficult for Evelyn to tell, her head pounding as it is with want. “Yours,” Cassandra says. “Yours, sir.”

“That’s right.” Evelyn nods. “You are mine, and you don’t have to worry about anything at all; I am here to take care of you. Isn’t that right?”

“That’s right, sir.” Cassandra nuzzles into her touch. Evelyn can see her legs shaking, so she does not take her hand away; instead, she kneels, too, and brings Cassandra’s mouth to her own.

Kissing Cassandra is like kissing lightning: her lips are slow to move, steady, ancient and cool until Evelyn winds her fingers into her hair; then, she is snarling, hands reaching but not touching, tongue dancing behind her lips because she knows, even as pleasure snaps in the air, that it is Evelyn who makes the decisions, now; Evelyn who decides whether or not their tongues will meet, whether or not her hands with touch the Inquisitor’s war-bearing skin.

“Good, pet,” Evelyn murmurs into her lover’s mouth before nibbling on her bottom lip. “You’re so well behaved.” Appeased, she guides Cassandra’s hands to her hips, still clothed in the Inquisition’s colors.

Her own hands move upward to the swell of Cassandra’s breasts. She thumbs over their expanse and relishes the way Cassandra whines. The red buds of her nipples perk up in the cold morning air and at Evelyn’s touch. Evelyn does not allow herself to linger there, though her mouth dips down to taste Cassandra’s pulse.

“Keep your hands on my hips, pet,” Evelyn commands. She presses a kiss beneath Cassandra’s chin and waits for the woman’s “yes, sir” before moving down, dipping into her collarbone while her hands make games of chasing her curves. Cassandra squirms at her touch, and Evelyn forces herself to breath; pleasure wells in her throat, in her wrists, and in her cunt.

“You _do_ things to me, pet,” she growls, leaving wet kisses in her wake. Cassandra says – something, but it’s lost in the pounding of Evelyn’s own pulse in her ears.

She takes each of Cassandra’s breasts in hand and squeezes gently, just enough that the other woman is left gasping above her. Her mouth she moves to the right nipple, then the left; she does not linger, just laves kisses until Cassandra is struggling not to open her legs.

“Tell me how you feel, pet,” Evelyn demands, quick to replace her mouth with her hands.

“It’s – so much, sir,” Cassandra pants out. “It’s been so long, sir.”

Evelyn chuckles. “We’ve been a bit distracted, I think, pet.” She rolls Cassandra’s nipples between her thumb and forefinger just to hear the woman gasp. “You don’t have to be quiet, you know.”

Cassandra opens her eyes, lashes fluttering, and levels Evelyn with a glare. Evelyn laughs, delighted, and tugs on her lover’s nipples again. The look falters as Cassandra’s mouth falls open.

“There you go, pet,” Evelyn says, grinning. “There you are.”

Cassandra’s desperate noises bounce off of the stone of the room as Evelyn leans her back, too distracted to move either of them onto the bed. Cassandra arcs up beneath her as Evelyn straddles her. She slips a leg between Cassandra’s thighs and smiles when the woman does not buck.

“Good girl, indeed,” she says, guiding Cassandra’s hands away from her hips. “I suppose I will let you keep touching me.”

Cassandra lets out a weak noise, a picture entirely foreign to the stone-faced Seeker. Evelyn places Cassandra’s hands on her thighs and reaches out to fit two fingers through the collar’s ring. She tugs, ever so lightly, and relishes the way Cassandra’s eyes flutter.

Evelyn guides one of Cassandra’s hands from her thighs to her clit and smiles as the woman gasps. “Touch yourself, pet,” she commands. “Gently. Slowly.”

“Yes, sir.” Cassandra blinks up at her, dazed, but her hand begins to move in slow, tender circles at the peak between her legs.

In the interim, Evelyn moves forward, tightening her grip on Cassandra’s nipples. The woman’s ragged breathing only grows less steady as Evelyn presses a kiss over her heart, then wraps her lips around bud there.

She fights wave after wave of pleasure as Cassandra writhes beneath her. Heat is written across the other woman’s face; her eyes have shut, and the furrow is back between her brows, but her mouth has fallen open, and she shivers harder with every moment that passes.

“Tell me, pet,” Evelyn says, pulling after from her lover’s breast, “what are you?”

Cassandra lets out a long moan, and Evelyn grins. She leans back, content to leave her hands on Cassandra’s breasts as her lover tries to formulate an answer.

Several moments pass. Evelyn squeezes Cassandra’s nipples again, then purposefully guides the woman’s hand away from her clit. Cassandra whines, but her eyes open once more.

“What are you, pet?” Evelyn asks again.

“Yours, sir,” Cassandra answers, voice ragged.

“That’s right, pet,” Evelyn replies. She lowers herself between Cassandra’s legs, but not before replacing her hands with Cassandra’s own. “Play with yourself, pet, and tell me: who do your tits belong to?”

She blows against Cassandra’s cunt and watches as the woman’s wetness settles in the curls between her legs. Evelyn reaches out, just ghosting Cassandra’s thighs as she waits for an answer.

“They belong to you, sir,” Cassandra grunts out. When Evelyn glances up again, she meets Cassandra’s eyes. The brown is no more than a thin ring outside of her pupils, now; even as Cassandra tugs on her nipples and moans, she does not break eye contact.

“Good girl,” Evelyn says. “And your cunt – who does that belong to, pet?”

She doesn’t wait for Cassandra to respond; instead, she leans forward and licks, tasting her lover’s want on her tongue. Cassandra’s head falls backward, and Evelyn has to reach out, throwing an arm over her hips, to keep her from bucking into the touch. She licks again and again, keeping her tongue to Cassandra’s cunt while her lover grows incoherent above her.

“Tell me,” she demands after several passes. “Who does your cunt belong to, pet?”

“You, sir!” Cassandra’s thighs clench on either side of Evelyn’s head; Evelyn grins, shifting upward to focus on Cassandra’s clit. Her lover cries out as she blows against it, then again as she flicks her tongue once, twice, again and again.

“Repeat it,” Evelyn commands in between breaths. “I want you to remember who you belong to when you cum.”

It leaves her soaked, the way Cassandra’s voice shudders as she complies. Her good girl, though, never breaks, not even as Evelyn slips two fingers into her cunt. She feels Cassandra wind herself up, tighter, tighter, until both of Evelyn’s cheeks are curtained with her lover’s thighs, and Cassandra is shivering with need.

“How close are you, pet?” Evelyn asks, taking her mouth from her lover’s cunt. Her fingers remain, pumping in and out of Cassandra’s cunt as her entire body trembles.

Cassandra groans – or maybe snarls. Evelyn shifts, trying to ignore the way her own cunt drools at the sound.

“I asked you a question,” she says.

“Too close!” Cassandra snaps back. Her hands curl into fists over her breasts, but she seems to see the moment Evelyn narrows her eyes and is quick to resume caressing the tender skin there.

“Too close, what?”

“Too close, sir,” Cassandra pants.

Evelyn considers her for a moment, long and lingering. Then, she smiles. “Good.” When she leans in again, she hesitates, if only for a moment. “Ask me to cum, pet.”

Cassandra’s hips rise upward, forcing Evelyn to follow until she can press her back down again. “I want to cum, sir,” she responds, voice gone high with desperation and want. “Please, sir – Inquisitor – please, let me cum.”

Evelyn reaches up and guides one of Cassandra’s hands away from her breast. This one she has grip Cassandra’s collar, fingers locking through its central ring.

“Ask again.”

“Please.” Cassandra’s eyes are glassy with bliss. Evelyn forgoes returning her mouth to the woman’s clit in favor of offering her palm for Cassandra to grind against. The expression on her face is too worth looking at, too perfectly at peace, too wanting. “Please, sir, please – I can’t think of anything else, sir; I just want to cum.”

Evelyn tsks, but it’s a fond noise. “You’ve been rather brave, I think, trusting me like this,” she says. “So cum, pet. Cum on my hand, and tell me who you belong to.”

Cassandra cries out, her eyes squeezing shut. Evelyn shudders as she feels her lover’s cunt pulsing against her hand and fingers; the slickness there grows with every shiver and ever mewl that leaves Cassandra’s mouth.

Cassandra cums like she’s dying, like she’s wanted nothing else, with one hand wrapped around the collar Evelyn gave her. In her moan, Evelyn hears, “yours, yours yours,” and has to will herself from bucking back into her lover’s orgasm.

When Cassandra’s hips finally fall back onto the floor, the whole of her seems to melt. Evelyn keeps her fingers at the ready, unable to remove them from Cassandra’s shuddering cunt, but she moves upward and presses a kiss to Cassandra’s temple. She holds her, body pressed against body, as Cassandra shivers, eyes still too-tightly shut.

“Excellently done, dear,” she says, gently unwinding Cassandra’s hand from her collar. At last, she takes her other hand from Cassandra’s cunt, though Cassandra’s whine is nearly enough to send it back.

Cassandra chuckles – warm and precious, so much so that Evelyn cannot help but kiss her again. “You are good to me, sir,” she says, voice dull and full of bliss.

Evelyn snorts. Carefully, she undoes the collar from around Cassandra’s neck and sets it aside.

Cassandra opens her eyes and fixes on the ceiling before meeting Evelyn’s gaze. She glances down at Evelyn’s still-clothed body and frowns – but it is a playful thing.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Evelyn asks, laughter in her voice.

“I did,” Cassandra manages. She pulls herself upright, fierce consideration written into every line of her body. “Though I find myself determined to ensure that you do, too.”

As Cassandra pulls her towards the bed, Evelyn grins, bright and glittering in the early morning sun. “Don’t worry at all, pet,” she says, falling back on the sheets. “I feel that we’ve only just begun.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought!


End file.
